


One Day At A Time

by callmerachel



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Discussion of Rape, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I think?, Slow Build, case involved, discussion of suicide, reader has a drinking problem, spencer understands addiction, yes i'm discussing AA in here, yes there will be smut later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-18 12:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7315774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmerachel/pseuds/callmerachel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>spencer reid/reader. reader is an alcoholic, but is newly in recovery -- it's a secret to the team. It turns out, however, that this secret has to come out in order to solve a case where the unsub kills alcoholics in their first year of sobriety. she's terrified about what the team will think of her, but spencer comforts her. sparks fly. romance blooms. it's about to get angsty and h/c-y and fluffy in here! (and probably smutty, let's be real.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three Months

**Author's Note:**

> ok so to be completely honest, i'm writing this mostly for myself. i'm starting my life in sobriety (well, i started two weeks ago) and i need an outlet. also, there are so many stories that involve drinking -- hell, i've written them too! -- and sometimes it triggers me up, so i thought this might be therapeutic. and maybe by sharing some of my experiences/writing about recovery, i can help people too? so it's a win-win??
> 
> also maybe it'll just be a good story too. i hope so! i feel like spencer would definitely understand what a recovering alcoholic would be going through because, you know, dilaudid and NA and that lovely fun.
> 
> also also , this is my first (planned) multi-chaptered fic! i'm envisioning like 10 chapters, but who knows???
> 
> please let me know what you think!
> 
> disclaimer: i know that i'm not supposed to publicly endorse AA. anonymity is the basis of it (it's in the fucking name). but i've tried so many different ways and this is what's speaking to my heart and my inspiration right now. please don't read if AA offends you in any way!

The liquor poured over the ice cubes with a satisfying trickle. The whiskey was nicely aged and bitter as it filled your mouth with warmth. The bar was empty; the bartender had simply given you the bottle as you tipped it over and over again, three fingers full, glass to mouth. When the bottle was half empty, you stood up from the barstool, which fell over as you wobbled on your feet. Two steps later and you were falling, blacking out, head about to hit the floor—

You woke up gasping for air. Another nightmare about a nameless bar and liquor you didn’t even like.

The clock read 4:15 A.M. You groaned and turned off the alarm; you knew you couldn’t go back to sleep. Instead, you pulled on your workout leggings and a sweatshirt then laced up your running shoes.

It felt like you were swapping one addiction for another, sometimes, as you pounded the pavement on your run to the gym. But, you thought, breathing in the cool Virginia morning, at least this one didn’t haunt your dreams.

—

“Y/N, you’re here early,” Hotch said as you hurried onto the elevator. You tucked your bag more securely onto your shoulder.

“Ah, woke up before my alarm this morning. Thought I’d get a head-start on some of that paperwork,” you said with a grin. “And maybe brew up some decent-tasting coffee before the rest of the team gets here.”

He nodded with a quick flash of a smile.

You and Hotch were halfway through the pot when the rest of the team started to trickle in. 

“Looks like girl genius here made the coffee this morning,” Morgan said as he took a swig of coffee. “This is stout.”

“It’ll put hair on your chest,” you threw back. He laughed as he walked up to his office.

Reid looked at you curiously. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know,” you said, grinning. “My grandpa used to say it all the time, though. The stronger the coffee, the thicker the hair on your chest.” You chuckled at the still-confused look on his face. “I guess it’s a Southern thing.”

“I guess so…” He sat down at his desk, pulling out a newspaper to read briefly before starting work on his paperwork.

“Save me the crossword!”

—  
“Hey Y/N, wanna go out for drinks with Morgan and me tonight?” Penelope asked you over lunch in her lair. 

You shook your head. “Not tonight, I have a meeting I have to go to.”

She frowned. “You always say that.”

You shrugged. “It’s usually the truth.”

“‘Usually,’ huh?” A devious look crossed her face. “Do you have a date tonight?”

You dropped your fork into your take out box. “What, me? No way.” 

She was still smirking as you made fleeting eye contact with her. “You so do! What’s his name?”

“Hey! It could be a her!” Her smirk got even wider.

“So what’s her name, then?”

You shook your head. “I promise, I don’t have a date tonight. Why don’t you see if Reid wants to go?”

She shook her head. “Not tonight. He always goes to the movies on Tuesdays.”

A thought raced through your head. “Yeah, my meeting is a book club meeting, so I always have it on Tuesdays.” You weren’t technically lying.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

—

“Hi, my name is Donald, and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Donald.”

“Alcoholics Anonymous is a…” You always zoned out during the opening lines of the meetings. You tried to pay attention when the steps were read, but it was easy to sit and study the faces of the other members instead.

You’d think you’d leave work at work, but it was too ingrained to stop.

The meeting was good. It actually was a book club of sorts, but instead of reading what was on the bestsellers list, you were reading the AA Big Book. It was always a good meeting; the discussion was always stimulating.

At the end of the meeting, Donald stood back up. “And now for our token system. For every month of your first year of sobriety, you get a token. But most important is the first chip, the surrender chip. Does anyone want to take a step toward what we have?”

The room was quiet for a second, then a young man stood up to receive the chip. He looked no older than 25. You smiled widely as he received the chip and the “bro hug”. 

“Does anyone have one month?” A pause. “Two months? Three months? Fou—“ 

You stood up. “I have three months.” The room burst into applause. You walked up with a smile so wide your cheeks hurt, taking the chip and hugging Donald. He had seen you when you first started going to meetings, sometimes still stinking of beer. He smiled down at you, as proud as a father.  

“Congratulations, Y/N.”

So much better than going to a bar.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some cute interaction between reader and reid and the case is introduced~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! sorry this update is so late and this chapter is so short. i started my last mini-semester as an undergraduate this week so it's been a little busy! but when i got off work tonight i wanted to write a little bit more of this story -- at least introduce the case! i should get the next chapter up soon because i have a long weekend with no work, woo!
> 
> let me know what you think and thanks for reading <3

“Y/N, hot mama! What’s got you all dressed up?” Morgan slung an arm around your shoulders and smiled that mega-watt smile.

You grinned and smoothed the skirt at your thighs. “I suppose I just had a stroke of inspiration this morning.”

After the meeting last night, you felt rejuvenated. You had slept a dreamless sleep, waking up with your alarm for once. You decided to skip the gym and go after work, using the extra time to get ready. 

Your hair fell loosely around your shoulders and upper back, natural except for some anti-frizz cream to enhance your natural texture. You had dabbed on some makeup, taking the time to wing your eyeliner to bring out your eyes. The dress you were wearing was work appropriate, of course, but showed a little extra leg as it hit just above your knees. The neckline did dip down a little bit, showing off your slight cleavage, but you covered up with your favorite (f/c) cardigan.

“Inspiration, huh?” Penelope walked up to you and Morgan, looking over her glasses at you. “I wonder where you could have gotten that from.”

“Woah, did someone have a date last night?” Morgan pulled away from you and smirked. “Damn, girl!”

“No, no!” you said, laughing and pulling your satchel closer to your side. “I just had a good morning.”

“Yeah, right.” Penelope’s grin was insufferable.

“Ok, but really, guys,” you said, walking into the bullpen. “If I had had a date last night, would I have had time this morning to look like this?”

Penelope stopped in her tracks. “Damnit, she’s right.”

“Exactly.” You dropped your items off at your desk. “Lord, I’m going to need extra coffee to keep up with you two today.”

You walked into the kitchenette to grab some coffee. Reid was also there, filling up his mug with the last of the coffee. 

“Ugh, I should have known I’d have to brew more.”

“Oh, hello, Y/N!” He looked at you with a smile, then quickly glanced up and down your frame. “I-I’m sorry I took the rest of the coffee.”

You waved him off. “I was just teasing,” you said with a smile as you prepped the next pot of coffee. “I know how you are with your coffee, anyway.”

“Y-you look nice today,” he said, stirring his sugar into his coffee. You felt a soft blush stain your cheeks.

“Thanks,” you murmured, tugging at your cardigan sleeves. 

“Guys!” JJ ducked into the kitchenette. “Conference room now; we’ve got a new case.”

You sighed. “Reid, I might actually need a sip of your coffee. I’m not sure I’m awake enough for this.”

He laughed and poured a little of his concoction into your mug. You took a sip and puckered your lips at how sweet it was, eyes growing wide. “I think I’m awake now!”

His chuckle made your heart swell.

You sat between Reid and Rossi at the round table, smiling at everyone as you grabbed the tablet.

“Where are we off to now?” Rossi asked.

“Georgia,” Garcia said, pulling up three photos of three separate people. “Haley Rogers, Jeffery Stable, and Henry Morris, all killed in their homes.” You pulled up the crime scene photos and raised an eyebrow.

“There’s a lot of remorse in these poses,” you said. They were each covered with a sheet up to their chest with their arms facing palm-up on the sheet.

“Completely different demographics, though,” Hotch said quietly as he eyed the photos on the board. “Garcia, are their any relating factors to these people.”

“Well, that’s the thing,” she said, pulling up photos of three different buildings. “I did a little digging once I got the case file and they’re all—“

“Recently out of rehab,” you muttered quietly, scanning through the photos. “The victims are all recovering alcoholics or addicts.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some discussion of AA/NA (heads up -- i only know about AA so my NA knowledge is just cursory), reader and Reid have a small discussion of recovery, and reader tells the team about her alcoholism. actual plot-moving story!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time for some actual plot-moving story time! it's a short chapter, but important for getting the plot moving. also, i promise there's going to be more reid x reader interaction soon, i swear!! but this is what my heart told me to write last night, so here it is. 
> 
> let me know what you think! <3 thanks for reading!

On the plane, you grip a bottle of Diet Coke tightly. The carbonation and sweetness were what you replaced beer with when you were stressed; the chemicals were something you were willing to ingest as a replacement for alcohol.

“How can this unsub know that the victims are recently out of rehab?” Morgan asked, flipping through the file.

Reid coughed. “It’s something commonly discussed in treatment groups—“

“Like AA or NA,” you supplied.

“Garcia, can you get a list of AA or NA meetings and their members?” Hotch asked.

“Can do.” Her bubbly voice was tinny over the laptop speakers.

“Uh, it’s going to be incredibly hard to get a list of members,” you said, shaking your head. “And by ‘incredibly hard’ I mean ‘impossible,’ even for our resident tech goddess.” You smiling placatingly at the laptop. “By tradition, AA meetings—“

“—and NA,” Reid interjected.

“—are completely anonymous. Though,” you said, with a quick gesture of your hand, “you could probably see if there are any meetings that are catered to those newly in recovery.”

“Good thinking, Y/L/N,” Rossi said.

“Aha! Thanks to the genius musings of our newest crimefighter, I have a list of three AA groups specifically for newbies. Sending to your phones now.”

“Good work, Garcia,” Hotch said. “You too, Y/L/N.”

You smiled. “Just doin’ my job.”

—

“How did you know all of that about AA?” Reid asked as you drove the SUV to meet a chairperson of one of the meetings.

You shrugged. “Uh, well, I’ve heard things.”

“Right.” Reid looked at you for a second before digging in one of his pockets. “Look over here for a second.” You glanced at him to see him holding a shiny medallion in his fingers. “This is my ten year coin. NA, Dilaudid.”

You nodded and looked back toward the road.

“If you ever want to talk about anything, just let me know.” He put the chip back into his pocket.

When you got to the church you were meeting the chairperson at, you got out of the car. “Wait a second, Reid.”

When he approached you, you dipped your hand into your purse and pulled out your new coin. “This is my three month coin.” Your hands were trembling slightly. “I-I haven’t had a drink in three months. I didn’t, uh, want to tell anyone because, well…”

A hand reached out and curled around your shoulder. You looked up into Reid’s understanding gaze; you hadn’t realized you had been looking down. “I understand,” he murmured, and smiled gently. “Congratulations on three months.”

“Thank you.” He squeezed your shoulder lightly then his hand dropped.

Your heart was beating a bit faster than usual when you walked beside Reid into the church.

—

The police station coffee was stale when you emptied out the carafe, but you didn’t care. You had a feeling about what would have to be done to get a better understanding of the recovery culture of the small town, and you weren’t exactly elated about it.

“All three of the victims had been to this meeting at least once,” you heard Reid say as you walked into the conference room, nursing your coffee-stained water. 

“We need to go inside one of those meetings then,” Rossi said.

You felt Reid’s eyes on you. “I’ll do it,” you said quietly.

Hotch shook his head. “You haven’t been undercover yet. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

You slipped your hand into your purse. “It won’t be undercover, exactly,” you said, holding your chip up with shaking fingers. “My name is Y/N, and I’m an alcoholic.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reader tells the team about her alcoholism! reid and reader go undercover at an AA meeting! reader's story is told! unsub is taken down! reid and reader share an experience!
> 
> a lot of shit happens, y'all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so this chapter is LONG... well, compared to the rest of the chapters of this story. i just had this pressing need for a lot to happen, so it was so.
> 
> the story shared... it's mine, with a few things taken out. i'm sorry if this makes the story alienating for my audience (aka you guys) but i needed to share this. hopefully some people will connect to it.
> 
> also yay some stuff with reid and reader!! is chapter four considered slow build??? haha.
> 
> i hope you guys enjoy. :) tell me what you think!

The room was quiet. You held your coin up like a shield, trying to keep your entire body from trembling.

“Y/N…” JJ’s voice trailed off. You looked up at her sad eyes and felt a grimace of a smile cross your face.

“Y/N, if I had known… I would have never asked you out to the bar,” Morgan said, shaking his head. 

“I-it’s ok,” you said, pocketing your chip. Reid stood beside you, a comforting presence just in his body heat. “That’s why I have to rush out of the office on Tuesday nights. Or why I can’t come over for dinner some nights,” you added, looking at Rossi. He nodded slowly.

“Let me do this, Hotch,” you said, looking him in the eye. “We’ve gotta catch the son of a bitch who is robbing these victims of a sober life.”

He jerked his chin. “You’re going with back up.”

“Understood.”

Reid spoke up. “I’ll go with her. I think we all know why.”

The room was quiet again.

—

You and Reid were both being suited with microphones and speakers in the police station. You both were sitting in undershirts. Reid’s arms were bare, and you couldn’t help but glance down at the creases of his elbows for track marks.

“They’re mostly faded,” he said, and you flushed hotly. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. JJ’s hands twitched against your hair as she put the finishing touches on your earpiece.

You felt a hand touch your knee. Reid leaned towards you. “It’s ok.”

“You guys ready?” Hotch ducked into the room. You nodded, pulling on a large sweater you had packed for street clothes. Your outfit was remarkably similar to what you wore the first time you had stumbled into AA — an oversized sweater and unwashed jeans, hair a mess around your face. Today, though, the jeans were washed, and you wore reading glasses and your hair was gently mussed around your shoulders. You weren’t trying to portray a drunk, but someone newly in recovery.

There was a difference, you reminded yourself. Not that different from yourself.

On the ride over, you went over the profile with Hotch and Reid once more.

“This guy is middle 40s or 50s,” Hotch said, glancing at your in the rearview mirror.

Reid sat beside him in the passenger seat. “He’s probably been in the program for years and struggled with relapse. Probably had a relapse within the past year.”

You picked at a stray thread on your sweater. “He’s probably in a lot of pain. Recovery isn’t easy in the first place, but he’s probably tried all sorts of treatments, thinking AA would be the golden ticket. He’s both angry at people who haven’t had problems with staying sober and protective of the pain he envisions them inevitably facing.”

“He thinks he’s saving them from another relapse,” Reid said. You shook your head in disgust. 

The team set up in unmarked cars a few blocks away from the church the meeting was held in. Once you got out of the car, Hotch put his hand on your shoulder.

“I’m glad you trust us enough to tell us something so important to you,” he murmured. You smiled.

“Thanks, Hotch.”

He squeezed your shoulder gently. “Be careful.”

Rossi walked over to you. “You ready, kid?”

You heaved out a sigh. “As I’ll ever be.” He chuckled and wrapped you in a hug.

“I’m proud of you, tesoro.” 

You smiled warmly at him as you parted. “Thank you.”

The rest of the group approached. “We should leave pretty soon, Y/N. The meeting is going to start soon,” Reid said. You nodded and smiled at him.

“Let’s go.”

—

As you walked to the meeting, you felt your nerves quivering under your skin.

“R-Reid?” 

“Yes?” He stopped a few paces ahead of you; you had stopped walking. “What’s wrong?”

You took a deep breath as you picked at one of your cuticles. “If I talk in there, i-it’s going to be real. I’m going to be honest.”

“You’re worried that I’ll judge you.”

You jerked your head in the general direction of where you had left the team. “Or…”

To your surprise, you felt arms wrap around your torso. You brought your arms around Reid’s shoulders, laying your head in the nest of your arm and his neck.

“We care about you, Y/N. Nothing you say will change that.” He took a breath. “We all have our demons. We’re human.”

You were surprised to feel tears spring to your eyes. Your voice was thick as you whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You parted and he smirked lightly. “By the way, you should probably call me Spencer in the meeting.”

You grinned and started walking again. “What about outside of the meeting?”

“Hmm…” He scratched his chin sarcastically; you shoved him lightly. “I guess outside of the meeting, too.”

Your grin blossomed into a smile and you felt your heart beat against your chest.

When you got to the corner of the church’s block, you and Re—Spencer turned on your mic and speaker. 

Spencer walked in first and you lit up a cigarette. Even though you didn’t smoke nearly as much as you used to, you tended to smoke before and after AA meetings. Something about the culture, you mused to yourself. A woman walked up to you, wrinkled but dressed well.

“Do you have a light, sweetie?” 

You ducked into your bag. “I sure do.” You passed her the lighter and she sighed as she inhaled. 

“Thanks, hon.” She eyed you from lightly lined eyes. The bags from beneath her eyes stood out on her skinny face. “You new to this meeting?”

You nodded. “I’m pretty new to AA.”

She smiled and put her hand on your arm. “Glad you’re here. I’ve been sober four years and this is the best decision I ever made.” She puffed. “Pretty good meeting, too.”

You took a drag and smiled. “It’s the best decision I ever made, too.”

“My name is Carla. Wanna walk in together?”

“I’m Y/N. I’d be happy to.”

When you walked in, you made yourself a cup of watered-down AA coffee and walked into the meeting room. The walls were lined with a mishmash of old church pews and metal folding chairs. You saw Spencer sitting toward the back of the meeting, but followed Carla to the front. You sat in the corner so you had a better view of the room.

“Are we ready for a meetin’?” The chairman you and Spencer had spoken to earlier in the day announced. The room quietened. “My name is Jim, and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi, Jim,” the room chorused.

The beginning of the meeting started. You zoned out again, though you smiled at the man who smiled at you when Jim said, “We welcome all guests and newcomers.” You began to survey the room discreetly.

Nothing unusual yet.

“Does anyone have a concern or a problem with their sobriety?” Jim asked. The room was quiet. “Well, maybe we could discuss our lives before drinkin’, during drinkin’, and in recovery. Sound good?”

The room was full of nodding heads. 

“Would you like to start?” Jim looked at you. You nodded.

“Uh, sure.” You wiped your hands on your jeans. “My name is Y/N, and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi, Y/N.”

You prayed Spencer would be watching the room, because you didn’t think you’d be able to, knowing that both the safe anonymity of the room as well as the entire team was listening to your story.

“I guess I’ll start from the beginning, but not too much earlier,” you said, chuckling. “Just like a mini-speaker meeting, right?” A few chuckles echoed in the room. “Like I said, I’m Y/N. I’m from a little town in the middle of nowhere. My parents divorced when I was a baby, so I never knew what it was like to have married parents. Divorce is my ‘normal’.” You lifted your fingers into air quotes.

“So yeah, my house was always fragmented. And my momma, she, well…” You glanced at Spencer, who gave you a minute nod. You gulped. “She didn’t know how to be a momma. And my daddy always drank, and probably drank too much, but maybe not alcoholic-level too much. Not like me, at least.” A few men laughed.

“But I never felt good enough. So I tried hard, real hard, as a kid. I was angry, though, so angry. I’d come home and show my momma all these As and these books I could read when I was six, seven, and she’d ignore me! So I’d get mad, and she’d chase me, and hit me sometimes, and call me a hellion…” You sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

“I never knew what it was to have any self-worth. So when I left for college, I tried to find it… In all the wrong places. It started at parties, where I’d drink to gain some courage, so I’d be the prettiest girl in the room… And the funniest, too.” You smirked sadly. “Then I was sneaking into bars at 19, flirting with guys I wasn’t interested in to get drinks. Then I met Him.” You felt tears spring into your eyes but you swallowed them down.

“I was obsessed. I was in love. He raped me and I told myself it was good because he wanted me.” You heard a gasp in the room and Carla gripped your hand. Tears were streaming down your cheeks. “I started getting drunk every time we had sex so I wouldn’t have to face how I really felt. Then I started getting drunk whenever we kissed. By the end of our relationship, I was drinking every night.

“Now, I was never the kind of alcoholic that needed alcohol when she woke up, but I started drinking earlier and earlier in the day after we broke up. I couldn’t handle being alone. I’d drink then I’d go to the bar to find a faceless man to fuck. I was a drunken whore.” You couldn’t hold in the sob that escaped your chest. 

Over your earpiece, you heard Garcia crying.

“I started coming to AA after I got a DUI. But I didn’t actually work the steps. It took me drunkenly holding a knife to my own throat to get desperate enough to realize how unmanageable my life was. It took me moving hundreds of miles away from home and working in a high-profile job. It took me wanting to die so much my chest ached every day.” You wiped away your tears.

“But then I started working the steps. I found an HP — a Higher Power — that loved me no matter what I had done. I wrote out most of my character defects, though I’m still working on that fourth step. But—“ You pulled out your three month chip. “—I’ve got three months, and they’re the best three months I’ve ever experienced, because I have hope. I want to live. I have hope for a life full of love and happiness.” You blinked away the rest of your tears and smiled. “I’m so grateful for AA. I think I’ll end with that. Thank you.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” the room echoed, with a few “Glad you’re here”s. 

You scanned the room with a smile, but also to survey the room. You saw a man in the back corner, however, was looking at you with such pity it almost made you gasp.

Then you looked at Spencer. He was staring at you with a mixture of awe and empathy that brought tears to your eyes again. You had to jerk your head to look away.

The rest of the meeting went on the same way. When it got around to the brooding man in the back corner, however, you were pretty sure you had found your unsub.

“My name’s Johnny and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hey, Johnny.”

“And I’m fuckin’ frustrated,” he said, scowling at the room. “I relapsed for the eighth time last week, and I can’t figure out what the fuck’s wrong with me.” He beat his fist on his thigh and groaned. “I keep doin’ these fuckin’ steps and nothin’ works.” He looked right at you. “And with that, I’ll pass.”

The meeting ended soon after that. As you said the Lord’s Prayer in the joined circle, Carla held your hand tightly and hugged you once it ended. 

“Thank you for sharing your story,” she said.

“Thank you for listening to me.” You smiled a watery smile.

She smiled and handed you a slip of paper. “Here’s my number if you ever need to talk. Hope to see you again soon.” Your chest hurt. 

“I have to go, but thank you.” 

You walked outside and lit up another cigarette. Spencer was on the other side of the church steps, talking with the chairman, Jim. He glanced at you and smiled gently. You softly smiled back.

“Hey, can I have a light?” Johnny walked up to you, cigarette in his mouth.

“Yeah, sure.” You passed him the lighter.

He drug harshly on his cigarette. “You ever relapsed?” he asked. You shook your head. “Well, it fuckin’ sucks.”

“I can only imagine.”

He looked at you and snorted. “Everyone relapses at least once. Don’t be surprised when you find yourself at the bottom of a bottle.”

You took a deep breath to keep yourself from glaring at him. 

He leaned closer to you. “You want some?”

And your traitorous body, your traitorous mouth, began to water.

He leaned away and laughed. “Yeah, I thought so. Follow me; it’s not far.”

You nodded. “Y-yeah, sure.” You glanced at Spencer as you walked with who you were sure was the unsub.

Spencer looked at you and nodded. “Hey Jim, thanks for letting us come tonight, but I think I’ve gotta go,” he said, looking at your back as you followed Johnny.

“Absolutely. I hope you find this son of a bitch.”

“Me too,” he muttered as he started following you.

Johnny tucked into an alley. “Come in here, I don’t want anyone to see.”

“Yeah, yeah, makes sense.” He pulled a flask out of his jacket. “Here, take some.”

You held the flask in your hand and unscrewed the top. It reeked of whiskey. You brought the flask to your lips and turned your head, making a swigging motion as you kept your lips sealed tightly. You wiped your lips quickly with your sweater as you handed the flask back to him.

“Not a whiskey fan?”

You shook your head as your body began to tremble. “Nah, I was more of a clear liquor person.”

He laughed harshly and took a gulp from the flask. “You stupid bitch. AA doesn’t work. Nothing works.” He started walking closer to you, bringing a hand up to stroke your cheek.

“W-what are you doing?” you whispered.

“You said in your story you’d drink then go find men to fuck, right?” He grinned and wrapped his hand around your throat. “I’d say you just drank.”

You took a deep breath to scream but felt the tip of a knife bite through your sweater. “Ah-ah-ah, princess. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He pushed you to your knees. “Get ready to suck.”

“FBI!” You saw Reid at the opening of the alley, holding a gun. Johnny yanked you up by your hair and held the knife to your throat. “Put the knife down!”

Hotch and Morgan came running behind him, with Rossi and JJ following. You gulped and felt the blade nick at your throat.

“She’s hopeless!” Johnny yelled, tightening his grip on your hair. “She’s just gonna keep going to those stupid meetings and keep relapsin’ ‘til she’s dead!” He laughed maniacally. “You didn’t see her just now, suckin’ on a flask like a baby bottle.”

You shook your head. “I didn’t, I swear I didn’t, I even wiped it from my lips—“

“We believe you,” Hotch said. “John, you don’t know what she’ll do. You don’t know if she’ll relapse. That’s her life, not yours.”

“You don’t know, you’re not a fuckin’ alcoholic!” He screamed.

Reid put his gun down and rolled his sleeves up. “He may not be, but I’m an addict.” He threw his pale arms outward. “You can barely see them, but I have tract marks. Ten years old. I haven’t relapsed once.” He looked Johnny squarely in the eye. “The only reason you keep relapsing is because you’re constitutionally incapable of being honest.” 

Johnny howled and threw you to the side, rushing Spencer. A gunshot sounded and Johnny was laying on the cement, a hole in his head.

You were shaking as you pulled your knees to your chest, tears rushing down your face. 

“Y/N! Y/N, it’s ok…” Spencer leaned down to wrap his arms around you. You clung to him, sobbing into his neck. “You were so brave. Here, back there, you’re so brave…” He rubbed your back as you hysterically cried. 

The team watched, grief-stricken.

“Let’s give them a little space,” Hotch said quietly, walking back to where they parked the cars. The rest of the team followed.

“It was so close to my mouth, I almost drank it Spencer, I swear to God, I almost did,” you wailed into his neck. “I almost died and I almost killed myself in one night.”

He sat down on the cement, pulling you into his lap. “But you didn’t.” You looked up at him, eyes red and puffy. “You’re so courageous, Y/N.” He trailed a thumb against your cheek, wiping your tears away.

You pressed your cheek against his hand. “Thank you, Spencer,” you whispered. 

“Thank you, Y/N.” He unfurled his hand to cup your cheek. You smiled and looked at him in wonder. “You’ve lived through so much but you still see the beauty in life. You’re amazing,” he whispered, trailing his thumb across your cheekbone once again.

“You didn’t judge me,” you murmured. “You heard my entire story and didn’t leave.” 

He shook his head. “I’ll never leave, Y/N.”

You leaned up, slowly, until your lips were millimeters apart. “Is this ok?” you breathed.

He pressed his lips to yours.


End file.
